The Widow
The revelation from Darrius about the attacker winding up dead had a bit of a cooling effect on the evening. Mireya begged off, saying she needed some rest, which allowed you to go and look into things at the jail. Seems the man had only one visitor - his wife, bringing him his favorite meal. She didn't stay long, and the guards watched them very closely, indicating nothing strange had happened. The pair parted with a quick kiss, and his wife left with tears in her eyes. The next morning, he had been found dead, having apparently passed in his sleep. The next few nights Mireya doesn't perform, nor has she been seen for more than a few minutes here and there - grabbing a bite in the morning before leaving, and again in the evening before she returns to her room for the night. Any inquiries about town will leave her whereabouts during the day, completely unknown. Sometimes it's the details that jog the brain. The guard's mention of the wife's tears brings a frown to Vic's face. He departs the jail, and decides to shift his investigation to less official channels. He sends a message to his man for shady dealings, Darrius, that he wants the wife picked up (her child seen to in the meantime), and brought somewhere private for a discussion. The wife is brought in, though she was loathe to leave the babe behind. She appeared a little harried, and she wrings her hands repeatedly when she's brought to see you. She doesn't look as if she slept very well the previous night, dark circles under her eyes. When she is lead in, Vic meets her with the most sympathetic expression on his face. He reaches out to take her hand, and for once it is not a touch meant to seduce, only to comfort. He speaks softly, "Madame, you have my most sincere condolences on the loss of your husband. But we need to discuss your future, and a promise I made when he agreed to talk to me." The woman is about mid twenties in age and with the look of a woman who hasn't had an easy life. She dips her head as soon as she realizes she's been brought in the presence of the Marquess. "Forgive me milord." She lifts her free hand, trying to straighten her hair. "I didn't realize I was being brought to meet you. I would have put on my best dress." Victorious escorts the woman to a chair before releasing her hand, "My dear, that would have somewhat defeated my purposes tonight. It was important that anyone who might observe not realize where you were going." He shakes his head, turning away from her for a moment, leaving her with a view of his back as he says, "When I spoke last with your late husband, I made an agreement, and I do keep my word, even to a man who tried to do me harm. I told him that I would see to the welfare of his wife and child, if he would give me information on the men who hired him. And he did." He turns back to her then, and shakes his head, "With his death in my gaol, I fear for your safety, and that of your child. These are plainly ruthless men. So more drastic measures than I intended are necessary. The woman settles weakly in the chair you lead her to, her hands coming to rest in her lap as she begins wringing them again. She glances up at you briefly, before dropping her gaze to her hands in her lap. "When the guard came for him, I couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen to little Jasick and myself. He is... was..." Her voice chokes slightly. "... the only one we have to take care of us, and with him in the gaol..." She takes a shuddering breath, trying to suppress the tears. "I didn't know how we were going to get by... though I suppose we could appeal to the temple..." She tries to take a deep breath, her fingers grabbing the material of her skirt. "... and now that he's dead..." Victorious settles a hand on hers where she is gripping her skirt. He may not consciously be trying to seduce the woman, but his nature plays out, and the ways he knows to comfort an upset woman are rather slanted. So with his hand on hers, he looks into her face, "Now... You plainly cannot stay where you were, for any number of reasons. So... I will offer to you a position on my estate. It will mean leaving the city, and telling no one where you are going, leaving almost everything behind. But you, and little Jasick, should be safe there from whoever you husband was working with. It is the best I can offer you." Her hands are trembling when you lay your hand over hers, and she's quick to bite her lower lip. "All I know how to do is take care of our modest home, and care for Jasick." She slowly lifts her gaze, fidgeting a little on the seat. She's not immune to you, in the slightest, and the gentle hand combined with the reassuring words having her thinking inappropriate thoughts, for a widow. Her cheeks flush lightly, and she's quick to focus on a spot on her dress... a stain from little Jasick spitting up. "Here, Shillivan, it's all we've ever known... my entire life." Victorious's hand on her leg lingers a moment longer than it should, leaving a memory of a touch. He smiles at her, "Well then, I'd say that makes you perfectly qualified to work with the household staff, don't you think. You would be doing much the same as you have, simply in a much larger house." He pauses and shakes his head "And I daresay it's a chance for a better life for little Jasick." He frowns then, the comforting tone evaporating. "And a longer one. To be blunt, what worries me is that if these men cared enough to find a way to poison your husband in my gaol, then they might decide that he could have told you something that puts them at risk. I have reason to suspect that they always planned to eliminate your husband when his task was done and I'd rather not see more blood shed by these men trying to keep their secrets." Heat lingers, even after you withdraw your hand. Your reputation precedes you, and it only fuels those un-widowly thoughts that crept into her mind, unbidden. She tries to shake them off, having to refocus on what you're saying. "But... I don't know anything. It came as a surprise to me when the guards came... and..." She sounds on the brink of panic, her fingers curling in the material of her skirt. "Jasick. I shouldn't have left him behind." She starts to stand. Victorious shakes his hand, "Jasick is being seen to. I simply wanted to speak with you privately." He reaches for her hand again and gives a gentle smile, "It doesn't matter what you know, only what you -might- know. These are men who take no chances. So I must take no chances either. You are free to refuse my offer." His fingers trace little circles on the back of her hand, the kind of touch that seems soothing... but in some ways is anything but, sending little sparks racing through her nerves. "But I cannot guarantee your safety if you remain." A little shiver chases along her spine, goosebumps beginning to rise along the back of her hand and up along her arm. "If I stay, even without the threat you speak of, there is little hope for Jasick and I." She seems only momentarily distracted from her child, your touch causing all manner of warmth to spread through her, in ways her husband never managed to elicit. Victorious's fingers wander up past her wrist, teasing along her forearm. Despite the swordsman's calluses, these are far from the rough hands of a dockworker, and that alone invites thoughts of what these hands might feel like elsewhere. Vic flashes his most devastating smile, "Then you'll accept? I'll have you headed out in the morning. You'll need for nothing, but if there is something truly essential to you, one of my men can get it from your home." He pauses, and his touch glides back down to her wrist, "I'm sure you'll do well at my estate." It becomes increasingly more difficult for her to sit still, and it's likely only her recent widowing, and her own personal perception of herself that keep her from overtly responding to the touch. "Everything is happening so fast. I need to arrange for his funeral... not that we could afford anything... but he was a good man." At least to her. "He took such good care of Jasick and me." Victorious says "shakes his head, "I'm afraid I must insist on this... I will see him buried properly, the rites said over him. But for your sake, and Jasick's, if you are going to leave you must do so at once, and tell no one where you go. I want no risk of you being pursued. He drops his hand away from her, and turns away from her again. Of course, after those few touches, the view of him from behind, with the v-shaped torso and the athletic backside, might be very different in her eyes. He speaks, "I would rather an unseemly departure that let you grieve from a distance than a conservative approach that had you joining him." Suddenly bereft of your touch, the young woman feels rather cold, and another shiver chases through her. "I just don't know what to say. You're being very generous, and you don't even know us." Victorious turns to face her again, and reaches to take her hand again, this time to pull her up out of her chair, "I am merely keeping a promise. I said I would see to your welfare, and I am. This is how I choose to do it. Again, I won't force you to accept... but I will strongly recommend it. I assure you, life is not so harsh at my estate, particularly as I spend more time in the city." The woman seems a little unsteady when you help her to her feet. "Of course I accept. I don't want you to think I don't appreciate what you're doing. I'm very grateful. You're likely saving mine, and my son's life." Aside from the potential threats, it's probably true. Without someone to bring in money, and care for the little family, she would have to depend on the kindness and generosity of others... and with the lingering stigma of her husband being in the gaol, and rumors likely spreading about his death being suicide, any compassion and sympathy would have been hard to come by. Victorious is just a little too close when she comes to her feet. Close enough for her to have a sense of the solid physicality of him. Close enough to make her wonder about certain... anatomical rumors about the man, the kind that ladies giggle over between themselves. And close enough for her to catch a heady, spicy scent that clings to him, something likely worth more than her husband might have made in the last year. He steps back after a moment, and takes her hand. Raising it, he gives a light bow and brushes a kiss across the back of her hand. He says lightly, "I am so glad." He pauses and smiles, "Now... you really must tell me your name." A giggle almost escapes, but she's quick to clamp her free hand over her mouth, when you bow and kiss her hand. It's the first time she's ever had her hand kissed, and it doesn't help that your closeness... your scent... and just everything about you seems to set her heart a flutter, and her stomach to flip-flopping. "Patrice." She says, though her voice is quite low, you would have struggled to hear her. Victorious steps in again then. He sets his hand, very casually, on her waist and smiles. "Patrice? What a lovely name." He cocks his head slightly as he smiles down at her, an expression that seems to be offering something. Admittedly, the spark she sees in his eyes might have her wondering just what sort of duties might be in her future... but it might also have her rather confused over whether that is a possibility to dread or hope for. Patrice finds it difficult to think with you so close, and your arm around her waist. It takes a bit for her brain to kick back into gear. "I... should probably... be getting back to Jasick." Victorious cracks a smile as he pulls back, rebuffed for the moment. He goes over to the door of the room and opens it. After saying a few words a large, rough-looking, thoroughly intimidating sort of man comes in, holding Jasick surprisingly delicately, eager to hand the child back to his mother. Patrice has a mix of emotions, sad that you're moving away from her, but elated when she sees her son brought in. Though the large man does have her a little nervous, it's easily overcome when it comes to her son. She steps forward, holding her arms out for the babe, looking much more relieved - and stronger of will - with her son there in her arms. She dips her head, lifting the child up to dot kisses to his forehead and cheeks. Victorious heads to the door, saying as he passes, "Darrius, see to it that Patrice here has a place to sleep and an opportunity to clean up. I'll arrange an escort to bring her out to my estate in the morning." The large man scowls, but nods, saying nothing as Vic departs." Patrice looks so grateful when she looks back at you, before leaving. She's quick to head out, head home, to gather anything she feels she can't possibly live without.